


enough

by inkyzinky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Other, breakups no makeups, mentions of jack's deceased wife, set vaguely pre-movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 22:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyzinky/pseuds/inkyzinky
Summary: Jack says his late-wife’s name in bed, it’s not the first time. He doesn’t notice, and that’s not new either.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Kudos: 13





	enough

Laying there, sweaty and aching in the most satisfying ways, you let out a small laugh. It _should_ have been satisfying. But as you sat up, the ache of your muscles and between your legs only brought bitterness to your hoarse throat.

The afternoon sun was getting low, light peaking through the clouds and in through the windows. Even from the bed you could see boxes of stuff piled around the room and in the next, some sealed and labeled, others only half packed. There was a move on the horizon, with the reshuffling of Statesman agents on the East coast, there were gaps to be filled in New York.

Jack was asleep, and would stay that way for another hour or so. Neither of you were getting any younger, and with jobs with such a high stress factor, post-sex naps were sometimes even more satisfying than the sex itself. Glancing at him, splayed out and disheveled in that particular way of his, the corner of your mouth tugged up just the slightest. Another day, you might have been tempted to join Jack in dreamland, but neither of you were getting any younger, and you knew you were too old and too tired to be playing these games any longer. Playing at love and domesticity when it was all such a joke.

With a sigh, you got up and went to shower in the guest bathroom, in hopes of letting Jack sleep as long as he could. Let him have peace a while longer. In the meantime, you had some work to do, arrangements to make.

When he woke, Jack wandered into the kitchen wearing jeans and a plain t-shirt. He was beautiful, barefooted and confused as he joined you at the dining table. You pushed over a cup of coffee.

“Was I snoring that bad, sweetheart?” he joked, but it was half-hearted– he must have seen the seriousness in your face. It wasn’t strange for you not to join him in a post-coital nap, but he knew how exhausted work had gotten you the past week and likely assumed you’d knock out even harder than him.

“Your snoring could put a lawnmower to shame.” Teasing in return felt nice, until you thought about how this may be the last time you’d ever do so. Jack’s brow furrowed to match your frown.

“What is it? Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You sighed, dread settling heavily in your stomach. “We should stop seeing each other.”

Immediately you cringed. Jack looked like he’d just been slapped.

_stop seeing each other,_ as if the two of you had just gone on a few dates and it wasn’t working. As if this wasn’t years of a relationship coming to an end.

“I don’t– You want to break up.” Not a question, but you nod anyway. His hand rubbed harshly down his face. “I can’t say I agree with what’s happening. Or understand why.”

“What we’ve had has been amazing, but I have too much self-worth to be anyone’s second choice. Even if it’s yours.”

“You’re not!” he insisted, leaning forward and taking your hands. “You’re not second-place anything. I love you so much, darling.”

“I know you do, Jack.” You blinked, trying to keep your tears inside for the moment. “But you love someone else more.”

You looked down at his hands, held gently in your own. Jack’s eyes never left your face until your thumb started stroking over his ring.

He blinked, as if surprised by the sight. “Sweetheart, I…” He cleared his throat, overcome by the pieces he was putting together. “I can take the ring off, it’s just a habit at this point. It doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

And wasn’t that just the thing, the way he could get so used to the constancy of something he stopped noticing it. Didn’t notice other things that went along with it.

“You’ve been wearing this so long you don’t even see it anymore. But I do. I see it when we’re cooking, when we’re walking through the park, when we’re filling out paperwork for the office. When we’re watching TV, when we’re in our bed.” You take a fortifying breath. “I see her.”

Jack looked ready to interrupt but you didn’t let him, didn’t let yourself lose momentum. “Jack, you still love your wife. And that’s alright, it’s so sweet and I don’t ever want you to forget her or your baby. But you’re also still _in_ love with her, and that isn’t something I’m alright with. In your heart you’re still married to her. I won’t share you with a woman long gone, not like this.”

“What the hell do you mean I’m still married to her in my heart?” he said, something new in his tone. Indignation, but behind that, anger. “Have we not built something special together? Have I not proved that I’ve moved on with everything we’ve been through?”

“Jack,” you said, soft and sad, “you still say her name when we make love.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Eventually, he found his words. “I think I would know if I did something like that. And I distinctly recall screaming _your_ name on multiple occasions– countless occasions.”

That was true, and any time you managed that it made you feel so good, loved and powerful and cherished (a small part also felt triumphant, and with that also came guilt).

“You don’t say it every time. But it’s been…enough.” Each one had been a knife in your heart.

“Why not tell me sooner?”

“When we first started this, dating, I was afraid to bring it up. I thought it would stop as our relationship grew. The first time it happened, we’d just finished that mission in Alabama, the one that really went to shit. I’d almost died and you got thrown off a cliff. I figured it was just a fluke, that stress and the adrenaline just scrambled some things.”

“Sweetheart,” he pleaded, “I swear I wasn’t thinking about her that night. All I could think about was how relieved I was that you were alive. I don’t think about her when I’m with you.”

“But it kept happening,” you carry on. “And I did a cowardly thing, Jack. I told myself that everything else about us was great, and I shouldn’t be ready to ruin something as good as this. So I didn’t say anything, even when I should have. But you did it again, just this afternoon, and I can’t do this anymore. I’m too old to play a game competing against a ghost.”

“I’m so sorry I did that, but you should have told me–” and the inflection of his voice, the _offense_ he felt he had right to...it sparked something in you and you dropped his hands.

“I know I should have,” you interrupted angrily. “But this shouldn’t even be a problem in the first place. I shouldn’t have to ask you not to say your dead wife’s name when we fuck so excuse me for thinking that maybe if I could get you to love me enough this wouldn’t even be a problem!”

Breaths coming a little short, you could feel the wall keeping your impending breakdown in check crumbling away, and willed it to hold just a little longer.

“I didn’t want to have to ask you to let go of your wife, or to stop saying her name in our bed, or to take off your ring. I thought you’d do it when you were ready. I wanted you to do those things on your own. To choose me on your own.”

His hand came to cradle your cheek and you realized you’d started crying.

“I _do_ choose you. I want you more than anything.”

Even leaning into his hand, you shook your head.

“We’re done, Jack.”

Quickly, you stood up and left, barely making it to your car before you let everything out, sobbing against the wheel and wishing things were different.

**Author's Note:**

> [also posted on tumblr](https://inkyzinky.tumblr.com/post/640874624004046848/enough-pairing-whiskey-x-gnreader-summary-jack)


End file.
